Chapter 9 #3
Stokes looked up. “I took the cigars to Findlay. He’ll test them and said he’d have the results by tomorrow morning.
He also said that inhaling strychnine is an even more potent way for it to take effect.
He said Theodore was incredibly lucky to survive.
One good lungful—such as a man accustomed to trusting his own cigars would take—and he’d have been done for. ”
Patently appalled, Mary shook her head. “Who is doing this? Have the staff at Moran House been warned?”
“I sent word immediately,” Stokes assured her, “and asked my sergeant, who’s still at the house, to confiscate the box of cigars and take them to Scotland Yard. I also ordered the study closed up and guarded. No sense in taking any further risks.”
“First Winslow, now Theodore.” Mary looked at Barnaby and Penelope. “But surely, in both cases, the earl was the intended victim.”
“So we think,” Barnaby said, “but someone else put paid to the earl before he could ingest the poison.” He looked at Curtis. “Have you had any luck finding sightings of a stranger lurking outside the house?”
Somewhat to Barnaby’s surprise, Curtis nodded. “I put two of my best men onto it, and they checked the neighbors, and the groom of a house two doors up Park Lane says there was a man came walking up the mews from the direction of Moran House. A big, heavyset man wearing a long coat.”
“Time?” Stokes asked, busily jotting.
“Apparently right on ten o’clock,” Curtis replied. “The groom is sure because he heard the bells as the man went walking past.”
“What chance have we of learning the man’s identity?” Barnaby asked.
“It’s possible we’ll get lucky,” Curtis said.
“I’ll check with the Moran stable staff first. See if they saw anything.
It sounds as if this geezer had to have walked right past their stable.
Meanwhile”—Curtis glanced at Julian, who looked only too eager to help—“Julian here can work his charm on the jarveys.” Curtis smiled.
“They like his cheery face and are often freer with information with him than with anyone else.”
Julian nodded enthusiastically. “I’ll start…” He broke off and blinked at Curtis.
“Aye,” Curtis said, reading Julian’s mind. “You’d be wise to leave the jarveys until later. Those who’re about at ten o’clock of an evening won’t be out driving until the afternoon. But mind, I want you to take Norton with you. Just to make sure all’s well.”
Julian’s enthusiasm returned. “I’ll come into the office in the morning, then. See if there’s anything else I can help with.”
Curtis nodded approvingly. “You do that.” He smiled slightly and looked over Julian’s head at Mary. “After all, you’re still employed, and there’s work to be done.”
Mary returned Curtis’s smile with a grateful smile of her own.
Penelope noted the interaction, but before anyone could utter another word, they all heard a dull, thudding knock on the front door.
Mostyn hurried across the hall, then they heard O’Donnell wearily ask for Stokes.
Mostyn promptly steered O’Donnell to the drawing room, and the sergeant plodded in.
He nodded respectfully to the company, then looked at Stokes. “There’s no cigar box in the earl’s study.”
“What?” Stokes frowned.
Everyone else did as well.
O’Donnell held up his hands. “We looked and searched, but there’s no box of cigars anywhere in that room.”
Stokes swiveled to look at Mary. “Do you recall a box of cigars in the earl’s study?”
Without hesitation, Mary replied, “Yes. It sat on the top of the sideboard behind the earl’s desk.
What’s more, I’m sure it was there when I came upon the earl’s body.
” She briefly shuddered. “That scene is engraved on my mind, and the box was in my line of sight. I can close my eyes, think of that moment, and see it there—on the sideboard against the wall behind the desk.”
When everyone looked at him, O’Donnell shook his head.
“It isn’t there now.” He went on, “We asked the staff if they’d moved it for some reason, but no.
Seems no one’s sighted it since Monday morning, when the maid last dusted in there.
” The grizzled sergeant dipped his head toward Mary.
“The maid said it was where Mrs. Alder says—on top of the sideboard behind the desk.”
As befuddled as anyone, Stokes exclaimed, “Where on earth…?”
Barnaby glanced at Penelope and saw her expression abruptly clear.
She looked at O’Donnell. “Have you searched in the room where you found the poison?”
Confused, O’Donnell asked, “Mr. Frederick’s old room?”
“Yes. That one.” When O’Donnell just looked at her, Penelope raised her hands and made a shooing motion. “Go and look there. And quickly. Whoever moved it might think to move it again.”
O’Donnell looked at Stokes.
Stokes, who had been viewing Penelope through narrowed eyes, turned to his sergeant and nodded. “Go and check that room.”
O’Donnell heaved a sigh and went.
Barnaby regarded Penelope. “Why that room?”
“Because,” she said, “either the poisoner isn’t very clever and lacks imagination and is still trying to convince us that Frederick is the poisoner. Or…”
When, clearly thinking, she paused, Stokes prompted, “Or?”
“Or”—raising her head, Penelope continued—“the poisoner is clever and knows that we searched that room earlier today and is banking on us not thinking to search there again.” Still ruminating, she paused, then went on, “If they just wanted to get the cigars out of the way…and it’s possible they have no idea Vincent and Theodore pilfered two cigars.
But they know Winslow died unnecessarily, so perhaps they’ve had an attack of conscience and wanted to remove the second source of poison designed to kill the earl. ”
Mary shook her head. “Whoever is behind the poison, they were absolutely set on killing him, weren’t they?”
“Indeed,” Barnaby said. “And yet”—he glanced at Penelope—“whoever actually killed the earl, that seemed more a spur-of-the-moment act.”
Stokes nodded. “I have difficulty believing that the poisoner is also the murderer. That doesn’t make much sense.”
“So,” Curtis said, “we’re looking for a spur-of-the-moment murderer and a poisoner.”
“Two separate people, acting independently,” Barnaby confirmed. “The first killed the earl, and the second killed Winslow and almost killed Theodore.”
“Is it possible,” Mary asked, “that the spur-of-the-moment murderer was a thief?” When the others looked at her, she elaborated, “For instance, if someone was sent to steal the earl’s papers or learn something from them.
The earl was at dinner with the whole family, and later, the company retired to the drawing room.
It’s likely an intruder wouldn’t have expected the earl to desert his guests and return to the study when he did. ”
“True,” Penelope conceded. “And when the earl came in unexpectedly, the intruder had no option but to hide behind those long curtains.”
Stokes was following the hypothetical action. “Then the earl called Winslow in and sent him to refill the decanter, and the intruder felt he’d better escape before Winslow returned.”
“He might even have taken papers from the earl’s desk.” Penelope looked at Barnaby. “How can we know?”
Barnaby grimaced. “Other than confirming that the papers on the desk weren’t classified government documents, I didn’t pay that much attention to them.
There were several submissions to a parliamentary inquiry plus some private letters that seemed to be about investments.
” He met Stokes’s gaze. “Relatively innocuous, but if some documents had been removed, I can’t see how we could tell. ”
Stokes sighed. “We’ll check what’s there again and see if we can gain any insights. Whatever was on the desk should still be there.”
Penelope looked around the circle of faces, then, with a degree of determination, declared, “Right, then. What do we tackle next? What’s at the top of our most-urgent-to-know list?”
Stokes softly snorted and waved at her to continue.
She duly raised a hand and ticked her points off on her fingers. “Curtis and Julian will pursue the identity of the man sighted in the mews about the time of the murder. If we discover he has any links to the earl’s investments?—”
“Or his political enemies,” Barnaby put in.
Penelope inclined her head and went on, “Or any other likely foe, then it’s entirely possible that man is the earl’s murderer.”
She progressed to her second finger. “Meanwhile, we have the separate issue of the poisoner. Thomas and Montague are delving into the family’s financial secrets, which might be the motive there.
However, as of yet, we know little about any family feuds or clashes that might have spurred the poisoner.
” She looked at Stokes. “So I propose that, tomorrow morning, I will consult with my usual sources and see what they can tell us about the House of Moran. Even if the ladies know of no murder-worthy issue, rumor being the ton’s obsession, I’m sure they’ll have some pertinent information to share about the general financial state of the various branches of the family as well as their relationships, friendships, and disagreements. ”
Stokes glanced at Julian, Mary, and Curtis.
“By ‘usual sources,’ she means various grandes dames and similar ladies of the Cynster family.” Returning his gaze to Penelope, he nodded.
“Good. We need to cover those angles, and in that regard, your usual sources are our best bet.” Stokes shifted his attention to Barnaby.
“First thing tomorrow, I have to report to the Commissioner.” Stokes grimaced.
“I may be tied up at the Yard for several hours.”
Barnaby nodded. “While you’re stuck there, I’ll use those hours to see what my father and any of his helpful friends can tell me about the earl’s politics, especially with regard to any enemies.”
Stokes looked at Penelope. “I think that covers it. Or at least as much of it as we can cover by way of our next steps.”
A knock fell on the front door, and Mostyn went to open it.
Everyone looked expectantly toward the hall, and seconds later, O’Donnell, appearing a great deal happier than he had earlier, walked in, carrying a polished wooden box between his large hands.
The sergeant nodded to Penelope. “You were right, ma’am. There it was, sitting on top of the chest of drawers in that room.” He shifted his gaze to Stokes. “Seemed to us as if whoever left it there had just put it there for the moment, as if they weren’t sure what to do with it.”
“That’s very likely true.” Stokes eyed the box. “Did you look inside?”
“Aye. Carefully. It’s more than half full of fat cigars.”
Penelope looked smug. “Excellent.” She glanced from Stokes to Barnaby.
“Tomorrow, after our morning’s endeavors, I suggest we reconvene here before returning to Moran House.
” Transferring her gaze to Curtis, Mary, and Julian, she added, her tone anticipatory, “Sometimes, it helps to give the guilty party a little rope to run with. In this case, by not being in the house, we’ve given them time to try to cover their tracks, and they’ve made a mistake.
” She nodded at the box in O’Donnell’s hands. “Namely, moving that cigar box.”
She glanced at O’Donnell, then at Stokes, and finally at Barnaby, taking in their not-quite-sure-what-she-was-talking-about expressions, then, with a hint of fond exasperation, she explained, “That cigar box had to have been in the earl’s study when we left Moran House early this morning.
Prior to that, between the time Mary saw it there and we left the house, with ourselves and various constables moving through the corridors, there was no chance for anyone to slip into the study and take the box.
Even if the poisoner had thought of moving it—and I’m not convinced they did, not at that point—fetching the box would have been far too risky.
And from the time we left the house until we returned midmorning, after Winslow was found dead, all the household was, by all accounts, in their beds asleep. ”
She tipped her head consideringly. “More, I would wager my best bonnet that what prompted the poisoner to remove and hide the box was them learning of Winslow’s death, but they wouldn’t have risked doing so while we were in the house.
Therefore, the box was moved sometime after the search turned up the packet of poison in Frederick’s old room and we left the house to go to Chifley’s.
That was about twelve-thirty today. So sometime after then and before the guard on the study was reinstituted after we learned about the poisoned cigars and the cigar box, someone went into the study, picked up the box, and carried it to Frederick’s old room.
” She held up one finger. “This in a house containing only three family members and the staff—and the staff would have been rushing all around the house, catching up with their chores.”
She sat back and smiled at everyone. “I believe we stand a much better chance of learning who moved the cigar box to Frederick’s old room than of finding any evidence of who put the laced cigars into the box in the first place.”
Barnaby returned her smile. “Excellent deduction.”
His expression one of dawning appreciation, Stokes nodded. “Excellent, indeed.” He looked around the group. “With the exception of Mrs. Alder—and please, do remain in this house for the nonce, as there will be reporters lurking—all the rest of us, it seems, have our tasks for tomorrow defined.”